Screams In The Void

Uncertainty is haunting me again. Maybe it never left. Just dormant. Just buried. Like a recurring nightmare that comes back every other night. Just another chapter of fear in a book with crumpled pages. And everyone is gone. One by one. Slowly. And they keep leaving. What solitude creates is a hardened callus of rancor. Rage turned inward. Inexpressive. Untouchable. Immortal. Memories don’t heal—they only numb. Brief flashes of what once pretended to be family, friends, purpose. All of it now reduced to a void inside me, enduring as long as I keep breathing. For some reason, life still insists on me breathing. Or—enough—there is no fucking reason at all. It’s just the fact of being here. Drag yourself through another year. Drag yourself through another dream that will dry up like everything else around you. Poetry? No. Not even close. This is testimony.  Poetry is fiction. Self-deception. A bitter aftertaste. None of this is poetry. The knife cuts for real. The skin feels it. It b...

In the end, no one will ever understand — and honestly, they don’t need to. If you can’t understand yourself, why the hell would anyone else? The answers you’re looking for are yours alone. People ask questions without wanting the truth. It’s just intellectual sarcasm. “I miss you. How are you?” You don’t actually want to know, brother. You don’t fucking care. Everyone is armed to the teeth, ready to tell you what’s “right,” ready to crucify you. And if you regret something, tears don’t buy forgiveness. They point fingers — “I hope you learn from this.” I’m halfway through my life; I don’t need to “learn” anything from someone who decides to kick me in the back. I need to strike back and show you that you didn’t win. But then what? No one wins, no one loses. I believe what I say because I say what I believe. People want reactions, signs, clues, reasons. Reasons drown my soul — do you see that? No. Impossible. So don’t go searching for what you’re not capable of accepting. ...